The Binding
by Gevurah
Summary: “We could steal time, just for one day.”
1. The Call

**The Binding**_  
A Story by Gevurah_

"_Though nothing will keep us together, we could steal time- just for one day." - David Bowie, "Heroes"_

**Chapter One** _The Call_

Like a pearl set against black velvet, the moon shone brightly in the night sky. Below it, the town was asleep. It was small, as towns went, with only a handful of streets crisscrossing the dark earth. Still, it was large enough to have garnered the attention of warehouse supermarkets and chain home improvement stores. It even had it's very own WalMart. These buildings and a smattering of fast food shacks lined the west side of the town. But our story does not take place here.

Our story takes place on the opposite side of town. It is there that the town's old commercial district stands, ever faithful to the ghost of a long dead railroad. These old buildings still bear the stamp of a by-gone era. These are what drew Sarah Williams to this place. Most of the buildings are now falling into disrepair, but Sarah could still see the beauty that lingered. All of her life, Sarah had been drawn to the old and forgotten, so it was only natural that she would make her home in one of these buildings. It is here, in front of Sarah's three story walk up, that our story begins.

The night air shimmered and the street lamps that lined the empty street flickered before blinking out, one by one. The street collapsed into darkness and all was still and silent. The night waited.

Then, a single street light blinked back to life. It was followed by another, and another, until the entire street was restored and the silent night was filled with the gentle hum of fluorescents awakening.

It was as if nothing had ever happened at all.

Except that something was different. Two people now stood on the sidewalk, a man and woman. Their arms were around each other in what could have been mistaken for a lovers embrace, had it not been for their tightly closed eyes and tense expressions. The man relaxed first. He opened his eyes and saw that they were indeed in one piece and the world had not ended. The woman, feeling his arms drop, opened her eyes as well and stepped away from the man. She looked up at the building before them and smiled.

"Home, at last," Sarah said.

"Yes," the man said, scratching at his thick, full beard. "I'm afraid we kept you away longer than we should have."

"It's alright," she said. "I'm just glad I could help."

His solemn expression sobered even further. "Lady Sarah, we are in your debt. We will never be able to repay you for your kindness-"

Sarah interrupted him with a good natured wave of her hand. "Oh, nonsense, Gerald. You've already paid me more than I could have expected." She took his hands in hers and smiled up at him. "Go in peace, friend. There are no debts between us."

Gerald's smile was fond. "You will always be a friend to the Window Men. If you ever have need of us-"

"I'll call," she finished. "Goodbye, Gerald."

She watched as Gerald was there one moment, and gone the next. When she was alone, Sarah sighed and rubbed at her eyes tiredly. She was exhausted. She turned and headed into her building. Out of habit, she stuck her hand into her mailbox before opening the security door. There shouldn't have been anything waiting for her, but her fingers encountered a single, slim envelope. Frowning, she pulled it out and peered at it in the thin light of the street lamps.

No return address, no stamp, only her name in an old-fashioned slanting script. It thrummed with magic, but it didn't feel malevolent. It felt... familiar, somehow. Sarah closed her eyes to concentrate on the feeling, but closing her eyes only reminded her how dead tired she was. Deciding further investigation could wait until morning, Sarah put her key in the lock and trudged up the stairs to her second floor apartment. Each footstep rang in her ears like a mantra. _Food, shower, sleep._

Sarah closed the door to her apartment and let her bag fall from her shoulder to the floor, heedless of where it landed. She trudged single mindedly to the couch, tossing her keys and the letter onto the coffee table in the process. She peeled off her jacket and deliberately collapsed face first into the comfort of the couch cushions. Sarah lay there for a long moment, reveling in the softness and warmth. _Home_. Eventually, she kicked off her shoes and rolled to her back, her thoughts turning to food and a hot shower. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd had a decent one of either.

Sarah sat up and took in her surroundings. Though this hadn't been the first time she left in the middle of everything, it still felt unsettling to return and find that everything, quite literally, just as it was when she left. She could hear the microwave humming in the kitchen as it heated up her forgotten mug of tea, and Cary Grant was still mercilessly teasing Katherine Hepburn in black and white on the television. She covered her eyes with the back of her hand, dreading the dull thum of a headache she knew would soon awaken. Skipping time had consequences. The microwave dinged. Her tea was ready.

Sarah sighed and rolled herself to her feet. Shower first, she decided, then food.

---

Forty minutes later, Sarah's hot water heater was empty and her dinner had replaced the tea in the microwave. Sarah was on the couch in her bathrobe and favorite pink flannel pajamas, winding her wet hair up into a towel. On the television, Cary and Katherine had moved from teasing to moonlit drunken declarations of love.

In the hall closet, the towel that covered the medicine cabinet mirror slipped and pooled to the floor.

The first thing Sarah had done when she moved into the apartment was remove that mirror. She would have broken it, but didn't dare. In her line of work, bad luck could be life threatening. So she wrapped it in an old bath towel and hid it in the closet. Her friends thought it was deliciously eccentric, but Sarah knew it was just good sense. Mirrors were dangerous. You never knew who could be watching you, or - worse yet- who would use said mirror as its own personal doorway into your life.

Within the closet, the mirror began to glow softly before collapsing into an unnatural cavern of darkness. A pale, bloodied hand thrust itself out of the depths. The hand pulled itself forward, revealing a bloodied arm and, eventually, a dirty shoulder and bowed head.

On the couch, Sarah's nerves were finally mellowing. It had been so long since she had had a decent night's sleep and it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake. She leaned back into the cushions, feeling the tension ebb away. Sarah closed her eyes.

A crash from the hallway jolted Sarah upright. She blinked and scrubbed at her eyes. Had she fallen asleep? When a low keening moan caught her attention, Sarah's head jerked in the direction of the sound. Reaching beneath the couch, Sarah yanked the towel turban from her head, she pulled out the bat she kept in case of emergencies and stood to her feet.

Once, Sarah would have been frightened, but now she knew better. Her wards around the apartment were not broken. She could feel the crackle of their protection against her skin as she moved on silent feet across the living room to the hallway. Whatever it was that had entered her apartment wasn't going to hurt her-- at least that wasn't their main intent. Still, Sarah thought as she hefted the bat and flexed her fingers around the handle, better safe than sorry.

Her warrior stance faltered slightly when the pitiful creature that had invaded her home came into view. It was human, Sarah could tell that much. The sex and age were bit more difficult to deduce. The slight frame and long dark hair didn't mean much when it came the Otherworlds, where the line between man and woman sometimes blurred. Underneath the grime, the skin was pale where it peeked from behind filthy clothes. Sarah stopped her evaluation, her heart lurching. No. It couldn't be.

The poor pitiful creature was wearing pink flannel pajamas with little red hearts. Sarah looked down at her own pants: pink flannel pajamas with little red hearts. Her stomach lurched sickeningly and Sarah was suddenly very glad she hadn't eaten yet. The creature on the floor before her groaned, and Sarah's gaze snapped up. Green eyes met green eyes. Sarah's knees gave out and the baseball bat fell to the floor with a thump as she slumped against the wall. Sarah looked down at herself, disbelieving.

The other Sarah raised her head weakly. "Save Jareth," she said, reaching forward with a bloodied hand. Sarah found herself memorized by the movement. It was obvious that the other Sarah was hurt, badly. "You have to save Jareth," she pleaded. "I tried, but I was too late." She met Sarah's eyes. "Agate eagles agree," she said clearly.

Sarah sank to the carpet beside herself, horrified. It was her safety phrase. Sarah had strict rules about safety phrases. They're only be used in the most dire emergencies and she never used one more than once. But this particular safety phrase was brand new. No one knew it yet- except Sarah. The world reeled.

"Save Jareth," the other Sarah said again, her breathing labored, "promise me." She looked up at Sarah, and Sarah recognized the stubborn glint in her eyes. She clutched at Sarah's bathrobe. "Promise me."

"I promise," Sarah said, flustered and shocked and suddenly feeling very queer. Something was very, very wrong.

"Good," the other Sarah breathed. Her hand to fell to the floor with exhaustion. It was then that Sarah first noticed the blood. It had soaked into the carpet beneath the other Sarah and when the other woman shifted, Sarah could see the dark stain. It was a lot of blood. Sarah began to panic.

She pulled the other Sarah into her arms, her hands desperately flying over the other woman's body. "No, no, no," she mumbled to herself, as she searched for the source. The other Sarah coughed wetly. It was a horrible sound. Comprehension dawned. "This isn't happening," Sarah said, shoving aside the other Sarah's filthy shirt. There it was, a ragged black hole set into her chest just below her heart. Vomit lurched in Sarah's throat.

The other Sarah pushed Sarah's hands away. "Save Jareth," she said. "Not me."

Sarah had seen many things in her life, some of them dark and a great many of them scary, but Sarah had never witnessed anything as horrifying as watching herself die in her own arms.

---

Sarah flew through the apartment. A tiny voice in the back of her mind that insisted that she stop and think for just one second, but Sarah ignored it. She knew she might be caught in a time loop, but that didn't really matter at this point. Traveling back through time was tricky at best and downright dangerous at worst. That her future self risked the repercussions of traveling back through time meant that the situation was dire. Besides, Sarah knew deep within her soul that she would do anything to save Jareth if he needed saving. Corny, but true nonetheless.

Sarah was nothing if not loyal. She would cross the Otherworlds to save a friend in need, and whether he liked it or not, Sarah considered Jareth a friend. Since running the Labyrinth, Sarah had spent the years immersed in the Otherworld. She learned that the Goblin King was only a minor villain, if he even qualified as a villain at all. After what she had seen of the truly dark parts of the universe, the Goblin King clocked in on the low end of the evil scale. And Sarah would admit (only to herself, never aloud) that she was actually rather fond of him. It was a faded sort of fondness, born of the ghost of her last childhood fantasy.

Shedding her bathrobe, she grabbed a pair of socks from the dresser and pulled them on, trying not to let her thoughts dwell on the body in the hallway. She knew it probably wasn't right to just leave herself lay there like that, but Sarah figured it was her own body (as gruesome as that thought may be) and surely her future self understood her motives.

Back in the living room, Sarah pulled on her well worn hiking boots and jacket and rescued her bag from the floor beside the door. Looping her bag over her head and shoulder, she grabbed her keys and took one last look around her. Satisfied she wasn't forgetting anything, she closed her eyes and with a deep breath, cleared her mind. From the depths of her bag, she pulled forth a stone the color of pure cobalt. It warmed in a friendly manner to her touch and Sarah's lips curled into a tight-lipped smile. She may view Jareth with friendliness, but she wasn't so naive to believe that he would feel the same. She doubted she would be welcome where she intended to go. A little extra outside help found in the stone would add the needed oomph to pierce the veil.

Sarah took a deep breath. "I wish the goblins would come and take me away, right now."

Nothing happened.

She tried again. "I wish the goblins would come and take me away, right now." The air around her seemed to expand and contract, as if it was trying to obey her command but was unable to do so. Fear slid down her spine. She thumbed the stone and brought it to her lips. "Take me to Jareth," she breathed against its smooth surface, her heart full of fear and longing. _Magic words_, the apartment seemed to whisper as it faded away.

* * *

_**Next Time on The Binding:**_

A wicked sounding cough came from mist and Sarah's head whipped to her left, tracking the sound. Something was there that hadn't been there before. At the furthest reaches of her vision she could just make out a dark shape slumped against the ground. It coughed wetly again. Sarah didn't need to be told who it was. She glanced briefly back at the statue, but it's eyes had gone cold again. She had been dismissed.

Sarah ran toward Jareth, one hand on the strap of her bag that lay across her chest, the other clutching the stone. As she neared, the Goblin King's form became more distinct and she could make out the exhausted set of his shoulders and the limp way his hair and clothes lay about him. Something was very wrong.


	2. The Search

**Chapter Two** _The Search_

Sarah's apprehension was amplified the minute she opened her eyes.

She was alone, surrounded by a thick lavender mist that covered her feet and swirled lazily in the gauzy light of an unseen sun. She hadn't expected to be alone. She should have been taken directly to the Goblin King's side. It worried her.

The mist worried her too. She couldn't see through it, and she didn't trust what she couldn't see. Sarah gripped the stone in her hand tightly, finding reassurance in it's warmth. Perhaps her fears were getting the best of her. The sudden turn of events had her so on edge, her protective drive had kicked into high gear. A rueful smile twisted her lips. Only the Goblin King could throw her world into such a topsy-turvey state in such a short amount of time.

She took a few tentative steps forward, the mist feeling cool against her face. "Come on, feet," she muttered to herself, mentally ridiculing herself for her cowardice. Sarah wasn't the type to be scared. "We've got a king to rescue." Squaring her shoulders, she entered the mist.

The mist wrapped around her like a blanket, smothering everything. Even the light seemed to dim as she walked. Sarah strained her ears, listening for anything that might guide her way, but she could hear nothing besides the gentle brush of her own clothing.

Where was he and what had he gotten himself into? She could only imagine what sort of mischief a Goblin King could get himself into. The idea brought a fond smile to her face before she caught herself. She shook her head. _Wake up, Sarah_, she chided herself. Sometimes it felt like she had known the Goblin King all her life, but, in reality, she barely knew him. They were strangers who shared twenty minutes, two decades ago. The idea that she should care what happens to him was absurd.

Then what in the seven hells of the Otherworlds was she doing running off to his rescue?

Sarah stopped and considered the position she now found herself in. What _was_ she doing? Running off to save a king? It sounded stupid even to her ears. Still her instincts had led her thus far and (when she cared to listen) her heart whispered that she was doing the right thing. Sarah closed her eyes and took a deep breath before moving forward once again. After all, she told herself, she'd come this far. It'd be a shame not to see it through to the end.

When the visage of the guardian of the gates came into view, it appeared in the mist like the figurehead on a man-o-war and Sarah gasped. He rose out of the mist, strong and ancient and full of power. The Statue of Janus stood like the guardian he was with distant eyes of golden amber set into the stone. Sarah stopped just before him and stood silently, gazing up into his face. He carried little resemblance to the Roman depictions of his countenance. Instead, he reminded Sarah of the old green men. There was something wild and vaguely terrifying about his face, and it made Sarah feel uneasy. She was reminded of the stories she read as a child of Bluebeard. A chill ran down her spine.

"What do you seek?"

The voice boomed within her head, sounding like stone grating upon stone, and Sarah had no doubt it came from Janus.

"I seek the Labyrinth," she said.

"What do you seek?"

"I seek the Labyrinth," Sarah said again, this time with more force.

"What do you seek?" The statue said again, like a broken record. Sarah frowned in thought. The Otherworlds tended to take one's words on face value alone, so it was likely she wasn't being specific enough. For all she knew, there could be dozens or even hundreds of Labyrinths.

"I seek the Labyrinth of the Underworld, domain of Jareth, the Goblin King," she said at length.

At Jareth's name, the statue's amber eyes briefly flared, reminding Sarah of molten gold, but none the less reverted to it's original question. "What do you seek?"

Cold panic clutched at her heart. She could not phrase the object of her goal more clearly. That could only mean- She sucked in a breath, feeling dizzy. Did the Labyrinth no longer exist? But what of it's ruler? The statue was silent before her, waiting for her answer.

"I seek Jareth, known as the Goblin King."

The eyes brightened, lit from within by an Otherworldly light.

A wicked sounding cough came from mist and Sarah's head whipped to her left, tracking the sound. Something was there that hadn't been there before. At the furthest reaches of her vision she could just make out a dark shape slumped against the ground. It coughed wetly again. Sarah didn't need to be told who it was. She glanced briefly back at the statue, but it's eyes had gone cold again. She had been dismissed.

Sarah ran toward Jareth, one hand on the strap of her bag that lay across her chest, the other clutching the warm stone. As she neared, the Goblin King's form became more distinct and she could make out the exhausted set of his shoulders and the limp way his hair and clothes lay about him. Something was very wrong. Sarah picked up the pace.

"Jareth!"

He paid her call no attention and she began to worry in earnest. Her feet raced over the unseen ground, but it seemed no matter how fast she ran, she gained no ground. It was as if the mist purposefully kept the image of the Goblin King from her, always set a carefully measured distance away.

He was not here, she realized in a flash of understanding. She stopped running and bent over, gasping for breath and clutching at her knees. The mist was keeping him from her, but not the in way she initially thought. The mist was a mirror, and Jareth was just a reflection.

She looked up at him and frowned at her own foolish actions. "Oh Jareth," she said, straightening. "What's happened to you?"

His head lifted at her words, and for a moment, a hope so ridiculously bright burned within her chest. But that hope was dashed when he spoke to a presence that she could not see.

"You cannot break me," he said, in what should have been a regal tone had it not been for the wet gasping breaths which punctuated it. "I will not yield."

The words were simple, but powerful, and they reminded Sarah painfully of words she had spoken so many years ago (she still winced at their memory). As if knowing her thoughts, Jareth squared his shoulders. "You have no power over me," he said, managing a weak sneer.

Suddenly, Jareth's form fell backwards onto the ground, as if struck, and Sarah's heart lurched painfully at the sight. Why was he alone? He looked so pale, so thin, so weak. Someone should be there to protect him. The mist in front of her shivered and the rock in her hand grew warmer. She looked down at it, reminded of her earlier thoughts. A push to break the veil, indeed.

She wondered if it would work.

---

As it turned out, it did work.

Without warning, Sarah fell through the mist. She landed on her hands and knees against hard, cold stones.

After a moment of stunned silence, a wickedly familiar voice cut through the quiet like a well-honed knife. "Do mine eyes deceive me? Could this be Sarah Williams?"

Sarah looked up through her curtain of hair and was hard pressed not to reflexively snap at the Goblin King's disdainful expression. "The one and only," she said, settling on wry sarcasm instead. She sat back on her heels and examined her hand with a grimace. She transferred the stone to her other hand and gingerly flexed her fingers. Though Sarah was lucky she didn't drop the stone, she had landed on her knuckles and now it felt like she might have broken a bone or two. "Damn it," she muttered.

His eyes narrowed, following her movements. "What are you doing here, silly little girl?"

Sarah ignored his question and flexed her fingers again. No broken bones after all, but they hurt like hell. She transferred her attention to the Goblin King and looked him over, taking in the soiled clothing and bloodied lip. She drew in a sharp breath when her eyes traveled down his arms. He was bound to the floor by iron manacles set into long chain. Where skin met metal was skin no longer, but red, angry flesh instead.

For that alone, Sarah wanted to scream and rail at his captors, but the stone in her hand wasn't as warm as it should be. It was loosing power and that meant she didn't have much time left.

She all but launched herself at Jareth, enveloping him in her embrace before he had a chance to react. "I wish we were back in my apartment, right now," she whispered into his hair, closing her eyes tight.

The stone flared to life in her hand.

Sarah and Jareth disappeared.

* * *

_**Next Time on The Binding:**_

Jareth opened his eyes and caught her staring, but she refused to be embarrassed and met his gaze squarely. The tiniest of smirks tugged at his lips. "Still stubborn, I see," he said, the animosity missing from his tone.

She smiled in response, relieved he wasn't going back on the attack. "You didn't really expect that change, did you?"

The expression in his eyes was unreadable. "I wouldn't know," he said in clipped tones, "I never expected to see you again."

Her smile drooped. She put on the remains of her shirt, and buttoned it back up. "Well, that makes two of us."


	3. The Crime

**Chapter Three** _The Crime_

Sarah and Jareth reappeared back in the dungeon with an audible pop that shook the bars of the cell door. They landed hard and the force of their impact threw them apart. They sprawled on opposite ends of the cell, dazed.

After a moment, Jareth laughed. It was a bitter, harsh sound. "Foolish girl. Don't you think I would have already escaped if I could?"

His words stung. He was right, of course. It had been a stupid idea. Sarah sat up, wincing. Her butt was bruised, she was sure of it. "Where is this place?" She asked, inspecting the rock. It was empty and would need to be recharged. Pity all of her tools were still in her apartment.

"You, _my dear_, have the pleasure of being locked up in the dungeons beneath Odin's hall."

Sarah's gaze snapped up from the rock in her hand. "Odin? You mean the Norse god, Odin?"

He snorted with derision. "Of course not."

Sarah sighed with relief and let the rock slide into her bag. She didn't know if she was up to the challenge of rescuing Jareth from the clutches of a god.

"So," she said, standing to her feet and taking off her bag, "care to tell me how you managed to get yourself locked up?"

Annoyance flitted across his face. "I don't see as to how that's any of your business."

Sarah considered him silently for a moment. He was acting like a sullen teenager and she tried to remember if he had always been that way. The Goblin King she remembered was cocky, yes, but she couldn't remember him ever being this surly. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, the chains clinking against the stone floor and drawing her attention.

"Hold still," she said, unbuttoning her shirt.

"Clothe yourself, woman," he practically shouted, scrambling backward and clearly insulted that she would disrobe in front of him.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Keep your pants on," she said, smirking inwardly at the unintentional pun. She shrugged out of the shirt, revealing a white camisole beneath, and sat on her haunches, motioning him to come closer. "Come here."

He refused to move and this time she did roll her eyes. "Let me see your arms," she said, breaking the seams between the shirt and the sleeve with a swift jerk. She did the same to the other sleeve. Jareth, seeing where this was leading, held out his arms for inspection, wincing at the pain the action caused.

She wished violently for clean water and cloth to clean his wounds. The skin of his wrists were angry red and bleeding as strips of skin were slothed off from the thick manacles. Sarah bit her lip as she took his hand into her own and slipped one of her sleeves up his wrist gently. Jareth breathed out sharply in pain through his nose at her actions.

She stopped and looked up at his face. All the blood had left his face and the hand she held trembled. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the pain, before indicating for her to go on. Sarah made sure the cloth completely covered the area affected by the iron before moving to his other arm. She worked quickly as she could, shooting concerned glances at him, watching as he grew whiter and whiter until she was sure he was going to faint from the pain.

When she had completed her task, she sat back on her heels. "Done," she said with relief. He took in a shaking breath and leaned back against the stone wall. They sat together for a long moment as he recovered and Sarah watched him carefully.

She was only fifteen when she had run the Labyrinth, so her memory was suspect, but he looked thinner than she remembered. She told herself it was probably the limp set to his hair and the fact that he wasn't wearing one of his high-collared jackets, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't the only things missing. There was something essential missing. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

Jareth opened his eyes and caught her staring, but she refused to be embarrassed and met his gaze squarely. The tiniest of smirks tugged at his lips. "Still stubborn, I see," he said, the animosity missing from his tone.

She smiled in response, relieved he wasn't going back on the attack. "You didn't really expect that change, did you?"

The expression in his eyes was unreadable. "I wouldn't know," he said in clipped tones, "I never expected to see you again."

Her smile drooped. She put on the remains of her shirt, and buttoned it back up. "Well, that makes two of us."

He frowned. "Why are you here?"

Sarah sighed and rearranged her legs into Indian style. "Because," she said, fumbling for the words. Hadn't she just been debating this with herself? "Because you're important to me," she said at length, shrugging feebly.

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I don't know, you just are." He looked at her with disbelief and she shrugged again. "I can't explain it."

"Try."

"It's like-" she paused, thinking for a moment. How did she tell the Goblin King something she wasn't entirely sure of herself anymore? "It's like when an old friend calls you out of the blue. They're on the other side of the world, they could have chosen to call someone else, but _you're_ the one they called for help." Jareth frowned and she rushed to make her point. "Even if you haven't seen them in years, you help them because they were nice to you once and you owe them that much."

He scoffed. "You don't owe me anything."

She shook her head. "No, I do," she said seriously.

"Explain," he commanded, his eyes glittering.

So Sarah explained best she could. She talked about what she's seen of true darkness, how horrible and terrifying it was. Jareth may be petty and cruel, but he's not evil. He could have easily ripped her apart at any point during her long ago run through the labyrinth, but he didn't. "Besides," she said, "you opened my eyes to the world. Without you, I'd never know about the Otherlands." She looked at him, her expression earnest. "I owe you a great deal. Whether you like it or not, you have Sarah Williams as a friend."

His expression had slowly closed down during her speech and now she faced a cold mask that could have easily been made of stone. "You will regret those words, Sarah Williams," he said darkly. "Mark my words: the day will come when you will regret claiming the Goblin King as a _friend_." He sneered the word and Sarah withdrew into herself at his hostile tone. Jareth was gone and the Goblin King remained in his place.

"Perhaps," she said, looking away and hoping he wouldn't see the distress his words caused.

The sound of heavy boot steps filled the small dungeon. Both Sarah and Jareth fell silent as thick, palpable tension blanketed their cell. In the dim light, his mask cracked and beneath his expression was pained, as if dreading the coming moments. He turned to look at her with haunted eyes.

"Leave," he said.

"I can't. My spell stone is empty."

He closed his eyes, resigned. "You should have never come for me."

She didn't know what to say to that. She wanted to tell him that he was being silly, but the dark curtain of apprehension quelled her optimism. She repressed a shudder. The steady tap of heel against the stone floor rattled her nerves and she had to remind herself that she was the hero here and it would not be acceptable for her to cower behind the Goblin King.

The footsteps grew near and near and louder and louder, until at last the hulking mass of a broad shouldered man came into view. Sarah had expected him to react to her presence, perhaps show some surprise, but his steps never faltered and his face was a dark mask of annoyance. Too late she realized the cell must have an alarm built into it in addition to anti-teleportation measures. Her stomach sank. _That's what you get for rushing into things_, she told herself.

The guard said nothing to either occupant and unlocked the cell door with the large ring of keys he kept at his waist. He stared at Sarah while he did this and she felt all the blood drain from her face. He had come from her.

Sarah was dragged unceremoniously from the cell by the front of her shirt. Her feet scrabbled against the floor uselessly as she tried to loosen his grip with her hands, but for the amount of attention the guard paid her actions, she might as well have been a gnat. Jareth remained in his corner and watched her go with haunted eyes.

The jailer dragged her protesting body up several flights of stairs. The stairway was dark and shadowy, lit only by oil torches that sent plumes of black smoke into the air. The smoke stung Sarah's eyes.

As they climbed, her heart beat frantically against her chest. She tried to tell herself that she had been in worse situations, but Sarah was afraid. For all her courage and general fearlessness, Sarah didn't handle physical pain very well at all and she was terrified that she was being dragged away to be tortured.

Torture. The word made her stomach heave in the worst way possible. The methods devised by her own world were unimaginable. Sarah didn't even want to think about what those in the Otherworlds would do to her.

But much to her surprise and relief, instead of taking her to a torture chamber, Sarah's guard deposited her in a brightly lit hall built of dark, oiled wood and bright gilded metal. At the center of the room was the largest throne Sarah had ever seen and upon that seat sat a tall, thick-set imposing man. The guard dropped her on the ground before the throne and the man stood to his feet, his brown eyes flashing in anger.

"Is this the one?" he asked the guard, his tone tight and body tense. The guard nodded and the man whirled on Sarah with barely contained fury.

"You dare help that thief?" he bellowed, his face flushing as red as his thick thatch of hair.

"He is my friend," Sarah began.

"What low standards you must have," the man sneered, "to choose to ally yourself with that vermin."

Sarah was insulted. "I know not what he has done, only that he needed my help," she huffed, automatically re-ordering her words and inflections to comply with the formal tones required in the Otherworlds. "If he has wronged you, than that is between he and yourself."

The man stepped closer, looming above her. "And what of the wrong between you and I?"

_Oh, crap_, Sarah thought. _Here it comes._ "What I did was wrong," she said, with as much dignity and innocence as she could muster. "But it was done in ignorance and I beg your forgiveness."

"Ignorance is no excuse!" the man thundered. For a moment, Sarah thought he looked like the god he was named after and her terror returned. "I shall not grant forgiveness until what belongs to me is returned!"

In truth, Sarah hadn't really expected anything different.

---

The guard tossed Sarah unceremoniously at Jareth's feet before locking the door behind her and turning on his heel to leave.

As his footsteps retreated into the darkness, she groaned and gathered her limbs close, nursing the aching flesh and feeling wearier than she had in ages. She glanced up at Jareth, who was looking at her with a guarded expression.

"What have you done?"

"I've done nothing," he snapped.

Sarah closed her eyes and sat up, grimacing as new bruises made themselves known. She tried a different tact. "That mans says you have something that belongs to him. What did you take?"

Jareth's body tensed, but for an instant his eyes were filled with guilt and Sarah realized that he knew he'd done something he shouldn't have. Finally, Jareth heaved a great sigh and produced a crystal from the air.

He looked into it longingly. "I took only what is mine to take," he said, handing the crystal to Sarah with great care.

Sarah froze as apprehension flooded her body. She almost didn't want to look into the crystal. She was afraid of what she'd find. Taking a deep breath, she looked. And felt her heart break, just a little bit.

Inside the crystal sphere spun the frightened image of a pretty young girl. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen years old. Her hair was thick, long, and red. Her resemble to the fierce red-haired man suddenly made everything clear.

"Oh, Jareth," Sarah breathed. "What have you done?"

Jareth frowned. "I've done nothing!" He snatched back the crystal. "She wished her brother away and ran the maze." He threw Sarah a wounded glare, as if this was her fault. "She wasn't going to win. So I offered her a bargain, herself for the boy, and she agreed." If Goblin Kings pouted, Jareth would have done so. "She's _mine_. I won her fair and square."

"Her father doesn't see it that way," Sarah said, unable to keep the wry smile from twisting her lips.

Jareth sneered. "He'd sing a different tune if he knew what the silly little girl did. The boy's his heir and the clout thinks I stole away the girl without provocation. She's his third daughter, and not even his youngest at that. She's of no consequence to him." Jareth stared into the crystal with such longing, Sarah felt her heart clench in response.

"What are you going to do with her?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"I'm not going to turn her into a goblin, if that's what you think."

"I didn't think that."

Silence.

"So," Sarah began tentatively, "She accepted your terms?"

Jareth nodded. "She did."

Sarah bit her lip, a ridiculous teenage habit she had never been able to rid herself of. "Were they the same terms you offered me?"

Jareth's gaze snapped up and he glared at Sarah. "And if they were?"

"She's just a child, Jareth," she said gently. "She wouldn't have understood the full weight of your offer."

"Like you," he said. He let the accusation hang in the air.

_Yes,_ her mind immediately answered, _like me_. Sarah didn't want to admit that, not to him. "No fifteen year old can completely grasp the concept of forever," Sarah said at last. "It took me years to understand what you were really asking."

His eyes flashed. "What is so difficult to comprehend? I've been alone for the entirety of my existence! _I'm tired of being alone!_"

Sarah sighed. She had a feeling she wasn't going to win this argument.

* * *

_**Next Time on **__**The Binding**__**:**_

Jareth looked vaguely ashamed at her question. "I had to send it somewhere safe, where I know he'll never be able to get it."

"And where is that?" Sarah prompted.

Again, with the chagrined expression. "With you."


	4. The Binding

**Chapter Four** _The Binding_

In the end they could come to no accord on the matter and they sat on opposite sides of the cell with Jareth refusing to meet her eyes and Sarah left feeling resigned.

"How do you plan to bind the girl?" she asked at length. Her tone bordered on waspish, but she didn't care. The situation was starting to get to her. She was tired of sitting on hard stone floors and she was annoyed at herself for getting herself into this situation in the first place. It seemed to her that Jareth had made his own mess and she felt a bit foolish rushing to his rescue like a headstrong teenager. But most of all, she was sick and tired of the longing glances Jareth would steal into his crystal. It was petty, she knew, but it bothered her that Jareth was acting like a love-struck suitor. The Goblin King she knew wouldn't act like that for anyone.

Jareth remained stubbornly mute, so she nudged his leg with her foot and repeated the question. He shot her a glare.

"A ring," he answered curtly.

"Wouldn't a pomegranate be easier?" Sarah knew there was still truth in the old myths and she didn't know why Jareth would go to all the trouble of initiating a binding with a ring.

Jareth had the uncanny ability to make her feel stupid with just a raise of one arched eyebrow. "I prefer something more... permanent."

Sarah blanched at the thought. Binding with gold rings had human connotations that she couldn't ignore and she didn't like the idea of Jareth binding himself to such a young girl. Binding was the marriage of souls, and binding with gold rings made the union eternal and unbreakable. It was the ultimate connection in the Otherworlds, where beings often lived much longer than those on the mortal plane. Needless to say, bindings weren't taken lightly or done often.

"The ritual has begun, but her father interrupted before the ceremony could be completed," Jareth continued, oblivious to Sarah's discomfort. "And now he keeps me here to prevent me from taking possession of the girl while he hunts for the ring."

"He can't keep you here forever," she said reasonably.

Jareth shot her a look that clearly stated otherwise. "He's immortal, I'm immortal. We have all the time in the world to play this little game."

"He's going to want his daughter back _sometime_ before the end of time," she pointed out.

"He can't have her."

She let him have that one. She didn't feel like arguing that point with him anymore. "You said that the father had interrupted the ritual, what did you mean?" she questioned, curiosity getting the best of her. Sarah had to admit that she was rather unfamiliar with bindings. She knew the theory and had met a handful of couples who had been bound to each other, but she had never witnessed a ceremony. Binding were rare and, of the couples she'd met, most had taken place long before she had been born.

Jareth shifted uncomfortably. "I sang to her," he said, not meeting her eyes.

Sarah raised a skeptical brow. "That's it? You sang to her?" She snorted inelegantly. "If that's all it takes, then you and I would be bound." She shook her head in disbelief, a small smile on her lips. "Come on, there must be more to it than that."

Much to her surprise, the Goblin King grew even more embarrassed. "We also danced."

On the surface, the two actions sounded so innocent, so ordinary, but his voice held an inflection that made Sarah realize the two acts together were incredibly important. Sarah's smile withered as memories of a haunting lullaby and a crystal ballroom assaulted her. No. He _wouldn't_- he _couldn't_ have. "In dreamland?" she pressed. She had to be sure.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

Sarah clenched her hand into a fist, just in case she gave into the temptation to slap him silly. "So you mean to tell me that you and I were almost-"

He nodded again.

Fear and anger swept through her body and with a cry of outrage, she leapt to her feet and kicked the iron bars of the cell door savagely. She could feel the impact even through her thick boots. "How could you?" she asked, wheeling on him. "I was fifteen! _Fifteen_!" She advanced on him, half expecting him to cower before her fury, but he surprised her by to scrambling to his feet and snarling at her like a caged wolverine.

"I did what I had to do!"

"You tricked me!"

"Perhaps if you hadn't been so naive-"

"Naive? I was _fifteen_! Of course I was naive!" she shouted, throwing up her hands in a display of frustration. "That doesn't give you the right to trick a young girl into giving up-"

"The only thing you would have given up is a mortal life of obscurity! I would have given you anything, had you chosen to stay with me." He bared his sharp teeth at her and grabbed her arms above the elbow, forcing her to face him. "Tell me, Sarah, how do you like your bland, little insignificant life?"

"At least my life is of my own choosing," she ground out. "I will always choose freedom over_ you_."

Her words must have hurt him because his eyes flashed dangerously in the low light. "The choice is no longer yours to make," he said, drawing her closer till they were nose to nose and she could feel his breath upon her cheeks. "I've found someone else who has _willingly_ chosen to stay with me."

His words were razor sharp and they cut through her anger like a well honed knife. She broke free of his grip and stumbled backwards as the fight left her in a rush. Feeling her face crumple, foretelling tears, she turned her back to him and let her weight rest against the wall. She could feel him watching her and she trembled beneath the weight of his gaze. Using the wall as a support, she slid down to the floor, hating herself for becoming so emotionally involved in the situation.

Sarah held a hand to her forehead and the coolness of her palm was a balm to her flushed skin. Hot tears pricked at her eyes and she shut them tight. Why was this affecting her so badly? "I assume Odin plans to destroy the ring?" Sarah asked tiredly. The adrenaline that had powered her this far was beginning to fade and after that brief burst of anger, her exhaustion returned with a vengeance. She looked over her shoulder to find him staring at her with a guarded, closed expression.

He nodded slowly in agreement. "She's still locked in her dreamland and can't return until the ring is either broken or joined."

Sarah turned to face him once more, not caring about the tears or dirt or anything else by that point. "And where is this precious ring of yours?"

Despite the aloofness of his expression, Jareth looked vaguely ashamed at her question. "I had to send it somewhere safe, where I know he will never be able to reach it."

"And where is that?" Sarah prompted.

Again, with the chagrined expression. "With you."

Sarah frowned, then realization hit her. "The letter," she guessed. Suddenly she felt like laughing, but the urge felt just this side of hysteria and she pushed it away. It wouldn't do to break down now, she thought, swiping at her wet cheeks. "You don't even like me, but you were willing to trust the binding ring into my care?"

Jareth looked at her without expression and she hardened her heart.

"So maybe I'm not the only one who was _naive_." She didn't mean the words to be snide, but she had a feeling that they sounded that way anyways.

Anger lapsed into silence, as each became lost within their own thoughts. Her eyelids drooping in exhaustion, Sarah had to fight to stay awake. She knew she must looked horribly haggard when Jareth finally sighed and scooted a bit to his left.

"I'm declaring a truce. Come here, girl," he said, indicating to the spot he'd just vacated. "You look worse than I."

After a moment of hesitation, Sarah crossed the cell, sitting down at his side. She leaned against him and rested her head on the shoulder he offered her. "I'm sorry," she apologized, hoping he wouldn't read too much into her words. "It's been a bad couple of days. I haven't slept more than a few hours since Tuesday."

One sharp eyebrow cocked in her direction. "Surely not in worry over myself?"

She snorted softly. "Don't you wish." When his attention remained trained on her, she relented and explained how she had come to his rescue.

"You shouldn't be traversing the Otherworlds like that, woman. They're dangerous."

Trust him to overlook the fact that her future self had pleaded his case, and instead focus on trivial matters such as her chosen occupation. "It couldn't be helped," she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to ignore his piercing gaze. "The labyrinth changed me. I couldn't go back to the way I used to be." She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her expression serious. "I had to change to survive."

He exhaled through his nose, lost in thought. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision and thumbed her dark hair. "I expected you to look older," he mused aloud. "It's been," he paused, and she could see him counting the years and being shocked at the end tally, "over two decades since I saw you last."

"Another gift from the labyrinth," she countered sleepily. "Personally, I've always blamed the peach."

Jareth froze, tensing beneath her. "Yes, well, I was playing for keeps," he said in clipped tones. "I didn't expect to lose."

"I had no choice," she said, skirting around his pricked pride. "I couldn't abandon a child. As a woman, it's hard-coded in my DNA." She yawned. "Children and lovers can never be left behind."

"And kings?" he asked pointedly. "What of them?"

It was a kindness to both of them that Sarah chose to ignore his comment.

They sat in silence for a long moment and Jareth slowly relaxed against the stone wall once more as Sarah drifted toward sleep upon his shoulder. "Pity you gave up your dreams for him."

Sarah lifted her head and blinked. "Who?"

"Your brother."

"Oh," Sarah said, yawning hugely and resettling her head on his shoulder. Had she been more awake, she might have been surprised by how comfortable she felt around him just then. "I didn't give up my dreams. I just chose to pursue them on my own."

"Besides," she said, yawning again. "Dreams are better when you earn them. The fight makes them more worthwhile."

"Sleep," he commanded, though his tone was gentler than she ever remembered it to be. Sarah didn't need to be told twice. She was already well on her way to dreamland, when he settled one long arm about her shoulders in a comforting gesture. Jareth pulled the crystal sphere from his pocket with his free hand and watched the red-haired girl within for a moment before silently coming to a decision and slipping it away. Instead, he watched the woman beside him as she slept, a curious wonder in his eyes.

* * *

_**Next Time on **__**The Binding**__**:**_

"Have you ever tried simply asking a girl rather than trying to trick her into bondage?"

His glare was a thing of darkness. "I did, once," he all but snarled. "But never again."


	5. The Bargain

**Chapter Five** _The Bargain_

They took Jareth away from Sarah while she was still asleep. Rough hands pulled the sleeping pair apart and flung her aside carelessly. They used more force than was strictly necessary and her head made contact with the opposite wall, her vision exploding into stars.

Jareth snarled and kicked at the guards as they unlocked the irons that bound him to the floor, but his actions did little to deter them and he was dragged bodily toward the cell door against his will.

Sarah's world spun on a dizzy tilt as she pushed herself away from the wall and she felt like she was going to be sick. Not trusting herself to stand, she crawled on her hands and knees, groping after Jareth's legs with shaking hands as they dragged him from the cell.

She managed to latch onto the Goblin King's booted foot, but her grip was broken by one of the guards with a vicious kick to the ribs. She watched helplessly as the door to their cell was slammed shut and the men and Jareth disappeared up the stairs and from her view.

From beginning to end, the entire event look less than a minute.

Her ribs and head aching, Sarah retreated back to the corner. The stones were still warm from their shared body heat and she curled up against them. Something wet trickled down the side of her face and she put her hand to her temple. Blood. She shrugged out of her shirt and held the cloth to her head, closing her eyes.

Hot tears pricked at her eyelids. Sarah had never felt more like a failure than she did just then. Blinking back the tears, she checked the watch on her wrist. They didn't have much time left. It was almost time for Sarah to reappear in her apartment. She didn't know how she did so, or what would set the events in motion, but she was sure it was not an appointment she could avoid. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of what the next hours had in store for her.

Was she prepared to die? The memory of her future self lying in her arms caused a shudder to ran through her body. Dying didn't bother her, not really. It was the wound that made her insides twist with anxiety. If Sarah closed her eyes, she could still see the horrible dark hole that punctuated the other Sarah's chest just beneath her left breast.

Sarah swallowed thickly, rubbing her clammy hands against her thighs. She wished the Goblin King was still there.

The next forty minutes were spent in agony. It was silent in the dungeons and her mind played tricks on her as she strained her ears to hear what was happening several stories above her. Did the Goblin King just cry out, or was that the sound of a rusted hinge? Were those footfalls on the steps or just the echo of water dripping from somewhere in the darkness?

Eventually, Sarah fell back to sleep. She didn't mean to, she was just so very tired. She couldn't have gotten more than a few hours of sleep before they came for Jareth.

The sound of keys in the lock roused her. She opened her eyes just in time to see Jareth being pushed back into the cell. He stumbled, his foot catching weakly on an uneven stone set into the floor, and he fell forward on his hands and knees. Sarah pushed away from the wall and knelt before him, glaring at the guards as they relocked the cell door.

Jareth groaned and tried to push her away as he sat up, but Sarah would not move. Her eyes traveled over him, taking in the gash above his eyebrow and the raw scraped skin of his knuckles where they had dragged along the rough floor. The strips of cloth that had protected him from the iron were missing and the skin of his wrists was once again angry and bleeding. Her heart broke just a little bit more.

"Oh Jareth," she said, helping him back to what she had come to think as their corner, "why don't you just let the girl go? Why put your self through this?" She wiped at the cut on his face with her hand, wishing she had more disposable clothing to tend to his wounds properly.

Jareth pushed her hands away irritably. "She's mine," he said, the bite back in his voice. "I won her and she belongs to me."

Sarah had had enough of that talk by that point. "Stop it!" she exclaimed. "This isn't you! The Goblin King doesn't moon over a child like a love-struck teenager! Is it really worth killing yourself over?" she asked, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to meet her eyes.

Jareth bared his sharp teeth at her dangerously and she dropped her hands quickly. "I can't die," he snapped, "but I will suffer through this torture for a thousand years, if it means I will never be alone again."

The man was infuriating. "Have you ever tried simply asking a girl, rather than trying to trick her into bondage?" she asked snidely, pulling one of his hands to her and wrapping what was left of her shirt around the wounds.

His glare was a thing of darkness. "I did, once," he all but snarled. "But never again." He yanked his hand back, heedless of the damage the action caused and deliberately turned his back to her.

Sarah stared at his back in disbelief and despaired. Time was running out, but she couldn't help him if he wouldn't let her.

A half conceived idea ghosted through her head. Maybe there was one way. She could see no other alternative.

---

It took her thirty straight minutes of railing against the cell door and shouting into the darkness of the dungeon to attract the attention of the guard. He lumbered down the stairs and she could tell by the dark light in his eyes that she had provoked him into a foul temper.

"I'm willing to make a deal," she said quickly, before he could shout at her. The light in his eyes changed and he looked at her appraisingly.

"Stay," he commanded unnecessarily as he turned to leave once more. "I will return."

Jareth had stubbornly ignored her up until that point, but at her words, he stood to his feet. "What do you think you're doing?"

Her grip on the bars tightened. _You knew this was coming_, she told herself. _Be cruel to be kind._ She looked at him from over her shoulder. There was anger in his eyes, but fear lingered in the corners. He repeated his question when she didn't immediately respond.

"Getting out of here," she said. _Be strong, Sarah_, she reminded herself sternly. His and her life depended on what she was about to do. She turned back to the bars before he could see the hate she directed at herself in her eyes. _You stupid, blind idiot. I'm doing this for you. _

But Jareth could not hear her silent voice and his eyes narrowed as he advanced on her. "Don't be an imbecile," he hissed.

She laughed and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool bars. "That's rich. For the first time since I got here, I'm finally doing the smart thing." She released her white knuckle grip on the cell door and turned to face him. "I came here to help you, but you don't want my help."

His fearful expression relaxed, slipping into the sharp lazy cockiness she had come to associate with him. He thought he had her backed into a corner. "Running away, Sarah?" He _tsked_. "Come now, I thought you put childish gestures behind you."

"There is no reason for me to stay," she countered, trying to ignore the barb which hurt more than she cared to admit. "You have no need of my services and I have no intention to stay just to keep your miserable self company."

His eyes flashed. She had hit her mark.

She felt like a bitch.

---

"Where is my daughter?"

Sarah hated that she was betraying Jareth. At that point, she could only hope he would forgive her one day. If she managed to live through this, she reminded herself. "She's trapped in Dreamland," she said. The king cursed darkly.

Sarah took a deep breath. "I want to make a bargain," she said.

Odin lifted his head, the emotion in his eyes unreadable. "Go on."

"I know where the ring is," she said. "I'll bring it back and in return, you let the Goblin King go unharmed."

Odin had ideas of his own. "Tell me where the ring is, and I promise I'll let you live."

"The ring is beyond your reach," Sarah countered, thinking of the wards she had placed on her apartment. She was suddenly glad she had learned that particular defense. "I am the only one who can bring it back."

"You underestimate my determination."

"And you underestimate _me_."

"Retrieve the ring, and in return the Goblin King may return to his kingdom," Odin said, amending his earlier offer. "But not until I am sure he will never touch what's mine again." The menacing glint in his eyes told Sarah that the lesson would be one of flesh and pain.

_This is the moment,_ she thought with sudden clarity. _This is how I am hurt. _"I owe him a debt," she said, looking away for the first time. She drew in a shaking breath. "I will take his punishment upon myself."

Odin looked startled at first, but his features soon took on a calculating cast. "So be it," he said. He motioned for the guard to come forward, his eyes never leaving Sarah. "Extract my retribution."

The blade in the guard's hand was bright and sharp. Sarah closed her eyes, afraid she'd be sick if she watched.

"Open your eyes," Odin commanded. "Face the fate you chose for yourself."

But Sarah couldn't. Terror had rendered her immobile.

"Open your eyes," Odin thundered, "or I will have your eyelids removed and you will be forced to watch! Uthor-" he said.

"No!" Sarah shrieked, her eyes flying open. "I'll do it, I'll watch!" Somehow, the thought of losing her eyelids was far worse than the prospect of the knife.

Uthor approached her slowly and Sarah's eyes were glued to the knife. He stopped when he was only a hair's breath away and reached out one long arm, wrapping it about her waist and drawing her close like a lover. In a horrible, gut wrenching twist, he wrapped Sarah's own fingers around the hilt and positioned the tip beneath her breast. Her body was trembling so badly, she would have dropped the knife if his larger hand hadn't held it securely in place.

"Remember," Odin intoned from above, "you chose this."

Slowly, ever so slowly, Uthor pressed the hilt forward. The pain as it pierced her flesh was harsh and bright. Sarah cried out, but it was a muted cry as she buried her face into Uthor's substantial shoulder and sobbed. He held her steady, his touch oddly tender as he completed the deed. Only when Sarah's hand on the hilt touched her own flesh, did he stop. Sarah remained collapsed against him, breathing sharply through her nose and clinging to his tunic, afraid her knees would no longer hold her weight.

And then the knife was gone, pulled out in the blink of an eye by Uthor as he stepped away from Sarah.

She sank to her knees in the absence of his support. Her chest burned and when she shifted her weight, a pain stabbed her so sharply she gasped. She clapped a hand to the wound just as blood began to dribble forth.

"Now," Odin said, "bring me the ring."

"I need a portal," she said, hissing through the pain that even talking provoked. "There's a mirror in my home," she said by way of explanation.

Odin stood up and stepped down from his throne. He held out a hand. "Show me."

Sarah took his hand and felt his mind probe through her thoughts. She pictured the mirror in her closet and felt him lock onto it's location. She felt his shock at the images of the two Sarahs meeting in the hallway. _Time stealer,_ his mind seemed to say. The words were said with antipathy. After a moment, he broke the contact. "It is done," he said curtly, releasing her hand like it burned him. He gestured behind her.

With her hand pressed securely to the wound on her chest, Sarah looked over her shoulder at the glowing disk of light set into the floor. _Down the rabbit hole,_ she thought, thinking it was an apt description for the last 24 hours.

---

Sarah, as a rule, detested portals. They were a clumsy way to travel and sometimes you didn't end up where you should. Still, she had no choice in the matter on that day, so she fought her way through the swirling blackness, fumbling with a blind hand for the mirror's edge. Just when she thought she'd accidentally gotten turned around and missed it, her fingers stumbled upon the hard, metal frame of the mirror. With her right hand clamped tightly against the wound in her chest, Sarah thrust her other hand through the mirror's surface and found purchase on the carpet of the hallway closet.

Inch by painful inch, she extracted her body from the portal, ducking and contorting her body to fit through the small opening. She slipped out of the portal like a babe from the womb and lay on the floor for a long moment, catching her breath.

Eventually, she stirred and groped for the door handle. It was dark in the closet and in her blind groping, she accidentally knocked over the skis her father had given her for Christmas the year before. They made a horrific crash as they fell against the door, and consequently, Sarah's head. She groaned aloud. Luckily, the skis had jarred the door hard enough that it slipped from it's latch and opened to reveal the carpeted expanse of her hallway like a magical door leading to a fantasy realm. The view was surreal. Her hallway had never inspired much of a sense of comfort before, but now, it was the loveliest sight Sarah had ever seen.

She crawled forward, using the strength of one arm, whilst extracting her legs from the cramped confines of the closet. Her heart raced at the simple effort and Sarah had to stop and close her eyes for a moment. She laid her forehead against the floor, concentrating on steadying her shaking breath. The sound of rushing blood roared in her ears and she felt lightheaded.

It was only when the Other Sarah dropped the baseball bat she had been holding that Sarah realized she wasn't alone. And so it begins again, she thought bitterly. She raised her head and regarded her past self. How tired and worried she looked. "Save Jareth," she said, reaching forward with one hand to other woman, searching for a handhold. "You have to save Jareth," she pleaded. "I tried, but I was too late."

If Sarah thought betraying Jareth made her feel horrible, it didn't hold a candle to how she felt about doing this to her past self. She could see that the other woman was clearly having a hard time wrapping her mind around the situation at hand. She looked up at herself, seeing the terror and disbelief wash across her features. She met the other Sarah's eyes. "Agate eagles agree," she said clearly.

The other Sarah sank to the carpet beside her, her expression horrified and white as chalk.

Unfortunately, Sarah didn't have time to waste. "Save Jareth," she said again, her breathing labored, "promise me." She looked up at her past self and clutched at Sarah's bathrobe. "Promise me."

"I promise," the other woman said, her voice shaking.

"Good," Sarah breathed. Her hand to fell to the floor with exhaustion. Maybe this version of Sarah would save the Goblin King.

As her vision grew dark, she found herself wishing that if she was going to die, she would do in someone else's embrace. _Such a pity,_ a lofty voice echoed from a memory.

* * *

**Next time on ****The Binding****:**

Inside, nestled innocently amid the plain paper was a plain gold ring. It was too large to fit on any human finger. She imagined it was just big enough to be worn as a child's bracelet.

Sarah tilted the envelope, letting the heavy ring slide free and come to rest upon her waiting palm. She felt tainted by just touching it. The purity of the gold looked wrong against her dirty, bloody skin. She clenched in her fist, as if she could crush it.

Sarah hated that ring.


	6. The Return

**Chapter Six,** _The Return_

At first, there was darkness.

Then, Sarah opened her eyes.

With a gasp, her lungs began to work again, forcing air through her throat and into her chest. Breathing hurt. The air burned as it expanded her lungs, like fire sweeping through a room. Breathing soon turned into coughing and conscious thought entered timidly behind.

_So, _she thought, _not dead._ Had her lungs not been otherwise occupied, she might have laughed. _Then again,_ she thought to herself as she struggled to sit up, _perhaps not. _

Her hands worked their way up beneath her dirty camisole, trailing along the skin tentatively. When her finger encountered no gaping hole, she frowned and struggled to stand. She swayed on her feet and had to support herself with one hand upon the wall as she walked back to the open closet. Kneeling once more, she slid the mirror out of the closet. Ignoring her ghastly appearance, she set the mirror against the door jamb at an angle that would allow her to view the wound and pulled up her shirt.

Nothing. Her pale skin was whole and intact. Wonderingly, she let her fingers graze over the area. She could see where the wound once was, for the skin was an angry pink and was sore to the touch, but it had healed.

Sarah stared at the reflection in the mirror dumbfounded.

She had no idea how it happened, but she was alive and, apparently, in one piece. She let the camisole fall back into place, still a bit dazed by the sudden turn in circumstances, and leaned backward against the wall as relief and total exhaustion waged war within her.

_Well,_ she thought, _wasn't this a twist of fate?_ Her wards were spelled to protect and keep her safe, but she didn't think they were strong enough to bring her back from the brink of death. She'd have to borrow that book of spells again. However, ultimately it was a mystery to be solved at a later time and Sarah pulled herself to her feet, and staggered into the living room, knowing that if she stayed slumped against the wall that she would likely nod off.

She made her way around the couch, eyeing the soft cushions with longing, and knelt before the coffee table. She pawed through the clutter that littered its surface. Magazines and bills were tossed aside, as were pens, paperclips, door-eared paperbacks, and everything else that had taken up residence on the small table. Sarah began to panic when she realized the envelope wasn't there.

She bent down on her hands and knees, her fingers searching through the junk she'd just thrown to the floor. Where was it? It couldn't be missing! It had been a very long day and frustrated tears blurred her vision. She angrily swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sat back on her haunches.

_It couldn't have just disappeared,_ she told herself reasonably. _You were in such a hurry to leave, you probably knocked it on the floor when you grabbed your keys._ She closed her eyes and put her hands to her temples. _Think_, Sarah, _think_.

She tried to recall what she had done when she had flown through the apartment earlier. She had put on socks and boots, took off her robe, put on her jacket, grabbed her purse and keys... Sarah stopped herself. Her keys had been beneath the letter, hadn't they? She opened her eyes and stood up, walking around to the opposite side of the coffee table. As she reenacted her earlier actions, Sarah's eyes wandered to the floor before the couch. A small corner of paper peeped from the edge of the couch skirt.

With a whoop of joy, she grabbed the letter. Pressing it to her chest, she breathed a sigh of relief. Against her skin, the envelope seemed to pulse with energy and she felt vaguely irritated with herself that she hadn't recognized it as the Goblin King's magic. With hindsight, it seemed so obvious. If she concentrated, Sarah could feel the deep thrum of magic. His magic felt like wishes, hundreds and thousands of them all pressed together until they formed a solid thing.

Curiously, she opened the envelope. Inside, nestled innocently amid the plain paper was a plain gold ring. It was too large to fit on any human finger. She imagined it was just big enough to be worn as a child's bracelet.

Sarah tilted the envelope, letting the heavy ring slide free and come to rest upon her waiting palm. She felt tainted by just touching it. The purity of the gold looked wrong against her dirty, bloody skin. She clenched in her fist, as if she could crush it.

Sarah hated that ring.

Clutching it tightly in her fist, she made her made her way back to the mirror. She laid it flat against the floor and, with a deep breath, she jumped feet first into the mirror's surface.

But, her feet came to a rough stop and she stumbled, only succeeding in breaking the glass. Catching herself against the door jamb, Sarah stared at it horrified.

The mirror was closed.

Her chest swelled with anger. How in the hell did he expect her to return if he closed the damn portal? She fumed and kicked at the broken mirror. It wasn't fair! Just when she thought she might be able to salvage this wreck of a rescue mission, she couldn't get back to do so!

She needed to calm down and think of a solution, but it was hard to calm down when her hands were shaking so hard she was afraid she was going to drop the ring. In an automatic gesture born of countless years wearing jeans, she made to stuff the ring in her pocket, but her pajama pants were pocket-less and she stared at the ring in her hand stupidly for several long seconds before coming to her senses. Damn it, was she, or was she not in her own apartment?

A woman on a mission, Sarah marched into her bedroom, toe-ing off her boots as she went. She kicked the filthy pants off with relish and tossed them into the corner. They weren't even fit to go into the hamper. Her underwear followed shortly thereafter. She rummaged through her old dresser and pulled out clean panties and her favorite pair of jeans with a triumphant expression. As she shimmied the jeans up and over her hips, she exhaled with pleasure. It was a relief to change into a pair of real pants. As an after thought, she grabbed a sweatshirt that proclaimed her alma mater as well and pulled it on, feeling infinitely better than she had just minutes before. With her hair pulled up into a messy knot with a slip of elastic, Sarah was ready to take on the world. Well, almost ready. Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done for the grime on her skin. She'd just have to hope a shower was in her future.

Making sure the ring was secure in her pocket, Sarah sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her boots back on, thinking about the situation at hand. Stuck in her apartment with no way of returning to Odin's Hall.

She had been in worse scenarios.

The reasonable, unloyal part of her argued that she should stay right where she was. After all, the Goblin King obviously had no qualms about staying in that disgusting jail cell and he certainly didn't want her help. Not to mention he'd kill her if he found out that she had every intention of depriving him of his precious prize.

It was a pity Sarah wasn't more reasonable.

Instead, she stood to her feet and paced the length of her bedroom, thinking. She had plenty of tricks up her sleeve for teleporting herself, but none of them mattered, or counted, since she had no real idea of where Odin's Hall really was. It was a little hard to go somewhere if one didn't know where said place _was_.

As she paced, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the darkened windows and stopped dead at the sight. Lifting one hand to her face, she rubbed at the dried blood on the side of her face. What a sight she was. She looked like she had just climbed out of a horror movie. She snorted ruefully. In a way, she just had. She set her hands upon the sill and leaned forward, resting her head against the cool glass. She wished she could think of a way to return to Jareth. A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she whirled to look behind her.

Nothing. All was silent and still.

She looked back at her reflection in the dark window glass and gasped. Behind her stood a thickset man with a full beard and dark eyes. "Gerald! You scared me near half to death!" she chided the figure in the reflection and was rewarded with a full smile from the man.

"Your call was loud, Sarah," he said with something akin to amusement lighting his eyes. His voice sounded far away, trapped by the glass. "What troubles you so greatly you called out to me without words?"

The joy at seeing her friend faded from her face. "I'm in trouble, Gerald," she said bluntly.

His expression took on a serious cast. "You know I am in your debt. If I am able, I will help you."

"I need to get to Odin's Hall."

He frowned. "Odin is not a pleasant host. You do not want to go there."

"Odin is holding a dear friend against his will. I _must_ help."

He sighed and looked tired. "Sarah, your heart is too kind. You help others when you should help yourself instead. I fear this will be your downfall."

She opened her mouth, but he held off her reply with a raise of his hand, silencing her. "But," he continued, "I will help you in this."

"Thank you, Gerald," she said, her eyes shining with gratitude.

It seemed that Sarah had found her way back.

She just hoped it wasn't back to hell.

* * *

_**Next Time on, The Binding:**_

"You didn't!" she cried. "Jareth, how could you do something so stupid?"

"Give the ring to me," the red man roared, standing from his throne and advancing on her.

Sarah clutched the ring to her chest and backed away from them all. She looked back and forth between the three men, slowly coming to the realization that she only had one viable option.

Talk about a twist of fate, she thought ruefully.


	7. The Binding, Part 2

**Chapter Seven** _The Binding, Part 2_

Sarah was sick of falling. When Gerald offered to let her travel window to window, she hadn't thought past the relief of finding a way back to save Jareth. However, what Sarah neglected to consider was that the windows of Odin's Hall were set high into the walls. Imagine her surprise as she passed through the veil and immediately fell the remaining distance to the stone floor.

The men jumped at her unexpected entrance, turning to stare at her as she lay upon the floor and gathered her wits. After a moment, she groaned and sat up gingerly. Her body was not made for such constant abuse. She swore to herself that if she managed to get through this stupid ordeal, she'd spend the next two weeks snuggled safely within her apartment.

Odin and the Goblin King stared at her, each with a unique measure of bewilderment in their gaze. She could guess at their thoughts. Odin was likely surprised to see her there at all. She had a feeling he intended on doing Jareth bodily harm, no doubt thinking he could collect Sarah as his convenience after he had finished with the Goblin King. Her eyes wandered to Jareth, taking in his disheveled state. Even bound and dressed in rags, the Goblin King was regal and elegant. He stood proudly before Odin, his spine straight and unforgiving. A burst of pride flared within her. _There's the Goblin King I know and love,_ she thought wryly.

"Do you have it?" Odin asked at last, a fierce expression contorting his face.

Wordlessly, Sarah dug into her pocket and held out her hand. The ring rested against her palm, shimmering in the torch light.

Jareth's eyes flashed at the sight. He struggled within his bonds, his fists clenching with anger. "How could you?" he hissed.

Sarah shot him a smile, but it felt broken. "I had no choice," she said. Her smile turned wry, recalling his earlier words. "Even Kings deserve to be saved."

"Silence!" Odin bellowed, growing impatient with their talk. "Give the ring to me, mortal."

"No!" Jareth barked, turning his attention back to his adversary. His tone had slipped into full Goblin King regalia. It was commanding and it brooked no disobedience. Goblins all across the Otherworlds jumped at that tone. "I will not allow you to have the ring. You will only destroy it!"

"As is my right," Odin retorted. "I am still her lord and father, her welfare is my responsibility."

"It is not your _right_," Jareth thundered, taking two steps closer to the throne, his expression dark. "In the eyes of the law, she is a woman capable of choosing for herself!"

Odin's face was flush with anger and Sarah imagined she saw fire flash upon his brow and was reminded of Hephaestus. "She is still a child! She did not understand the choice presented to her!"

"A _child_?" Jareth sneered. If Odin's anger was hot, than Jareth's was ice cold. "As she is old enough to bear children; she is a _child_ no longer."

As Jareth's anger rose, the ring in her hand pulsed like a raging heartbeat and Sarah closed her fingers over it protectively, bringing it to her breast. As she did so, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the tantalizing scent of dreams and wishes that filled the air around her like an intoxicating perfume. It reminded Sarah of lazy summer days spent at the lake and snow angels at Christmas. She brought her hand to her nose, tentatively, sniffing the ring. It _was_ the ring that was producing that heavenly scent. It seemed wrong that metal could smell so fragrantly. She had only ever smelled something similar once, during her final confrontation with the Goblin King.

A warning bell went off in her head.

She looked up sharply at him and noticed for the first time that she could see the magic surrounding him. It radiated off of his body in waves and distorted the air around him, like heat rising off of summer pavement. The air around Odin, in comparison, was dull like hammered copper.

Odin was now up from his throne and advancing on the Goblin King. If the latter was intimidated, he certainly didn't show it. If anything, the shimmering air around him actually swelled, swirling around him like an invisible cloak.

"Bear children?" Odin was furious. "You would _dare_ force yourself on _my_ daughter?"

Jareth laughed and it was cold and mocking. "There will be no need to _force_ myself on anyone. She will come to my bed voluntarily."

Odin backhanded Jareth with such force, the ring jumped in her hand. The pieces of the puzzle slid into place and Sarah stared at it in disbelief. He _wouldn't_ have. He _couldn't_ have.

"You didn't!" she cried, interrupting their argument. Both men swiveled to look at her, surprise temporarily overcoming their anger. She shoved the ring into her pocket and marched forward, putting herself bodily between the two men. "Jareth, how could you do something so stupid?" she demanded, searching his face for the truth.

"Do what, madam?" he asked coldly.

"You bound yourself to the ring!" she practically screeched. "Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do-"

"He bound himself to the ring?" Odin asked from behind her.

"Yes," she said, rounding on him. "If you destroy it, you'll be destroying him too!" Odin blinked and stared at Jareth with an emotion that was part satisfaction and part bewilderment.

She turned back to Jareth, her eyes pleading. "Please," she said quietly, fear lingering in her voice, "tell me you didn't."

He stared at her, resignation creeping into his eyes. It was all the confirmation she needed. He _did_.

"We have wasted enough time," Odin said, clutching her shoulder with one enormous hand and spinning her to face him. "Give the ring to me."

"No!" she said, reeling away. "I won't let you do that to him!" Sarah clutched the ring to her chest. She looked back and forth between the men, slowly coming to the realization that she only had one viable option. _Talk about a twist of fate,_ she thought ruefully. Sarah took a deep breath and grasped the ring with determination.

"Sarah!" Jareth shouted, reaching for her, desperation etched into every inch of his body. "What are you doing?"

She evaded his hands. Oh, the irony. "Saving you," she said simply, sliding the ring over her own finger.

Sarah was unprepared for what happened next. Energy burst forth from the ring as it made contact with her finger, exploding like a blinding white supernova. The spell's force knocked Sarah to her knees as supernatural winds pulled swept through the hall, pulling at her long hair and extinguishing the torches that lined the walls. As the hall sank into darkness, the power reversed itself, rushing back to Sarah, causing her to gasp at the suddenness. It consumed her, filling her eyes, ears, and mouth until she felt like she was drowning. It poured itself down her throat and bleed into her skin. It _became_ her. Then, just as suddenly as it attacked, the sensation was gone.

The wind died and one by one, the torches slowly sputtered back to life, illuminating the chamber and its occupants. Jareth and Odin had been knocked off their feet as well and Odin's expression was one of fear. "What has happened?" he asked.

"Sarah-" Jareth said, his voice paper-thin in the silent chamber. "What did you do?"

Sarah did not want to look at him. She was afraid of what she would see. Instead, she stood shakily to her feet, brushing her wind ravaged hair back from her eyes. A glint of gold on her hand reflected the torchlight from her movement and she paused, holding her hand out before her. On her left ring finger, the ring had magically resized itself to her finger. She has no doubt that if she were to try, it would not budge from the digit.

Disbelief washed through her, and it took her a minute to figure out the emotion wasn't her own. Her gaze snapped up and immediately sought out Jareth.

His eyes were on her outstretched hand. She felt, rather than saw, as his disbelief was replaced with a searing sense of betrayal and hurt. His feelings were so powerful, Sarah literally staggered beneath them. _Soul-bonded_, her mind whispered.

The sound of breaking mirrors filled the hall and, for a moment, Sarah thought she could hear snippets of a lullaby dancing in the background. The girl appeared in the room in a shower of shimmering glitter, looking scared and beautiful in a green dress that was too mature for her. Sarah sympathized.

Odin let out a whoop of joy and scooped the girl up into his thick arms. "Papa!" the girl cried, burying her head into his shoulder.

"Hush child," the big man murmured into her hair. "You're safe now, I've got you."

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean to wish Gregor away!"

"It's alright," he crooned, setting her down on her own feet. "All is right again."

"I want Mama," the girl said plaintively.

Sarah watched the reunion with a bleeding heart. She remembered all too well how frightened she had been in the ballroom, surrounded by cruel nightmares. She remembered feeling captivated by the Goblin King, fascinated by the words slipping past his lips and by the feel of his hand at her back as the ballroom swirled around them. She closed her eyes, pained by the memories. She had been too young, just like this girl. She hadn't understood what was being offered.

_Would it have made a difference?_ The voice in her head was unexpected and harsh. She turned to look at Jareth and was startled to discover that he was watching here with a bright intensity that almost scared her. Was that his voice in her head? Was this what it meant to be soul-bonded?

_No, _she wanted to answer, but the words were caught within her like a fly on a delicate spider's web. She was overwhelmed by memories of swirling pink gauze against blue velvet and a lullaby sung in her ear. _Yes, _she finally conceded, closing her eyes.

There was no reply. If the voice had truly belonged to Jareth, he did not answer.

Sarah opened her eyes, but Jareth was no longer watching her. His expression was unreadable as he watched as Odin and the girl leave.

But Odin couldn't leave yet. He had unfinished business with Sarah.

"Odin," she said, jogging briefly to catch up with the pair. "You and I had a deal," she said.

The large red-headed man stopped and looked at her. He gently shooed his daughter through the large wooden doors before turning back to Sarah with a stern expression. "You broke our deal, mortal. You did not return the ring to me."

"I did one better," she said stubbornly. "I returned the girl and the Goblin King will never try to bind her again." She waved her hand, drawing attention the ring on her finger. "Does this mean nothing to you? I have sacrificed myself for one of your own."

Odin regarded her for a long moment. Finally he nodded. "Your sacrifice was great, mortal, and for that you have my thanks. Go now, there is no debt between us, consider your freedom as my payment." As Odin turned to leave he waived one hand, almost carelessly, and Jareth's manacles disappeared.

Sarah could feel the lift of the geis like it had lain upon her own skin. And beyond that, she could just feel the fathomless power of the Labyrinth. It still existed. This was a relief to Sarah and she leaned tiredly against the wall, letting it absorb her weight. She watched the Goblin King stand to his feet, the stone mask back in place. She heart grew heavy at the sight. Would he ever forgive her?

Magic leapt to his bidding like an eager servant and Jareth was himself in an instant. Clean, properly clothed, unharmed, and very _very_ angry. He crossed the now empty room to Sarah, his boots loud against the stones, and grasped her sweatshirt with one gloved hand, dragging her close enough to him that she could feel his breath ghost along the skin of her cheekbones.

"Why did you do this, Sarah?" he asked, anger palpable in the air around him- around _them_. She could feel the brush of it on his skin like it was her own.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "What's done is done." She thrust her chin out stubbornly. "Besides," she said with a mocking grin that failed to do anything but reveal her exhaustion. "You'll never be alone again."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Indeed."

THE END

* * *

**Afterword**

_Firstly,_ I would like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story. To those of you who took a few extra minutes to write a review, you're extra special.

_Secondly, _there will not be a sequel. For me, the storyline ends there. However, that does not mean there will never be a sequel- it just won't be written by me. I will fully support any writer who wishes to write the next part.

_Thirdly_, to all of you who have this story on your Story-Alerts I recommend you remove said alert. This story was written as an excise for thinking on my feet. I wrote fast and loose, placing more importance on gut instinct than skill. I feel the text reflects that and when I read over it I can see many areas were the action moves too quickly or ideas are not completely flushed out. Over the next several months, I plan to edit and improve the story. I would not want to raise anyone's hopes needlessly via Story-Alert as I make the needed updates.


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